


Red Haze and Distant Minds

by GrannyBoo



Series: The Dire Claimed [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dissociation, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mates, Sensory Overload, claiming bite, non-linear time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 03:54:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrannyBoo/pseuds/GrannyBoo
Summary: A brief exploration of what happened after and during the end of 'Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light'. (Spoilers for 'Rage, Rage' inside, check the notes)





	Red Haze and Distant Minds

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so Fjord is experiencing an archetype of barbarian I'm designing called the Unchecked or Rampage archetype. This goes a little bit into that, along with how they escaped and what happened after Fjord claimed Caleb. Hope you enjoyed the series so far, there should be more for it on the way soon.

Fjord had trouble recalling the time between burying his teeth in Caleb’s shoulder and arriving in the middle of the chaos of the field, following Molly’s technicolour coat through the flood of soldiers to safety.

It jumped between moments bathed in a haze of red and pain and anger, angeranger _rage_ , to moments of perfect clarity, brought back to a singular focus by a soothing-soft voice telling him to ‘ _calm, Fjord. Please’_. Always ‘please’; a request he’d never dare think to disobey, uttered by a quiet voice that cut through the roaring in his ears.

The clearest moments were right at the beginning.

He pulled away from the bloody mess of Caleb’s shoulder, the coppery taste and smell of blood invading his senses. Caleb was curled in on himself, filling the now widening space between their bodies with sounds of pain, muffled by the lips he was biting raw to keep from screaming anymore.

A trickle of blood ran down Fjord’s throat.

He stumbled out of the tent to vomit.

That’s when the world started to shift. It spun as he emptied his stomach in the grass just outside the tent, blood mixed with the bile and guilt, and then it steadied somewhat, but he could feel the thrum in his veins. He shouldn’t know what Caleb’s blood tastes like. He shouldn’t have to know. They shouldn’t _be here, he wants Caleb away from here and safe with him_. _Why couldn’t he keep Caleb safe, he shouldn’t **know the taste of Caleb’s blood.**_ The sounds outside were drowned out by a growing rumble in his head that topped out at a dull roar that he couldn’t quieten no matter how hard he pressed his hands against his ears.

He felt a hand against his ankle and through the trembling, he managed to turn back. Caleb was watching him, a pained look in his eyes that had nothing to do with the bloodied mark on his shoulder.

Caleb said nothing but gave a gentle tug to his leg. The pressure in his head let up when he made eye contact, down to a manageable level as he stumbled back to his feet and returned to the inside of the tent where he used one of the last clean rags and their water to clean off the wound. It was still lazily welling up with blood.

“Is it enough?”

Fjord’s thumb brushes the skin around it, careful to avoid getting too close. He nods.

-

The only clear moments he has are the ones where he is alone with Caleb. Where the noise is minimal and he can centre himself around the feel of the wizard he encircles in his arms and the sound of his voice in his ear. The man is the only thing he can hear clearly beyond the _noisesomuchmoise_.

When Fireja comes, she sees the mark on Caleb’s neck and gives him a look of curiosity. She says something about lessening his in-camp casualties now that he has a new outlet and leaves them be.

The next he recalls is apparently two days later (as far as Caleb informed him in their room in the inn). A brief conversation whispered between them outside their tent. It is the middle of the night, the moon is above them, painting everything in a soft glow and making Caleb’s normally russet hair streak with silver. He looked hopeful.

“Are you back with me?”

Fjord doesn’t answer, the hopeful look fades into something blank, and the world goes hazy again.

He isn’t entirely sure how they make it to the day of the empire’s supposed gathering of forces. Caleb tells him in their bed, Fjord’s head on his chest and his hand stroking through the now shaggy black and white streaked hair, that he’d convinced Fireja to let him attend the hunt that morning.

“A shame that I am now claimed by one of your most brutal warriors and I’d never killed a thing in my life. A disgrace, even.”

Fjord snorts and tilts his head up to look at Caleb with disbelief, recalling bodies reduced to ashes.

“I am a very good liar when I know the language.”

They waited for the opportune time, then ducked away behind a thicket as the other orcs attacked a herd of deer or just observed, too focused on the agile creatures in front of them that by the time they realised Fjord and Caleb had vanished, the pair were already by the edge of the forest, scrambling down the edge of the mountain pass. The horn Fireja carried bellowed behind them, making the noise in Fjord’s head rise despite the firm grasp he had on Caleb’s hand, trees and rising cliff faces whipping past them.

By the time they made it to the crest of the hill and the banners of the empire waved at them, Fjord was back in the Haze, not returning until Caleb kept him from tearing apart a soldier who _dared to touch his claimed_.

-

Fjord had dozed off to the sound of Caleb’s voice and the steady beat of his heart through his ribs, waking up to twitches and keens, Caleb’s face buried in his chest sometime during the night.

“Caleb. Hey, shh,” Fjord brushed Caleb’s hair out of his face, running his fingers through it as the man jerked back into waking with a choked gasp, hands scrambling before they found purchase on Fjord’s bare shoulders. “’S alright. I’ve got you.”

“You- You were. Fjord-…”

He shifted, looking around the room with a furrow to his brow. Confused. Unsure where he was for a brief moment which unsettled more than the nightmare did. Recognition flickered into his eyes and he looked down at Fjord, the half-orc looking up at him with a hand on Caleb’s waist and his thumb stroking the bare skin peeking out from between his shirt and trousers.

“What time is it?” the warlock sat up on the bed, grazing his lips against the still-smooth side of Caleb’s neck as he peeked through the drawn curtains to see where the sun sat in the sky; not yet peeking over the horizon, but looming below the edge so the sky was painted in vivid violets and pinks throughout the deep blue.

“Nearly 5:15. I do not feel much like sleeping, if you want to go with me for breakfast? We could have food we haven’t had to gut and cook ourselves,” Caleb proposed with a tense smile, taking Fjord’s hand in his and weaving their fingers together, gripping just on the edge of too tight.

Fjord nodded, pressing a more deliberate kiss to Caleb’s jaw before rising from the bed and collecting a shirt from the floor by their bags (an almost foreign thing when it had been in the Nein’s possession and not his own for the past two months). Caleb’s eyes followed him from the other side of the room until Fjord approached the bed again, dragging his nails over Caleb’s scalp lightly so the man closed his eyes in contentment, leaning into the contact.

“Come on. I know you missed eatin’ with the others.”

“And you didn’t?”

Fjord’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m sure I’ll enjoy it well enough, eventually. Provided,” his tone became lighter as he leaned down to press his lips to Caleb’s forehead. “That none-a them think to touch my bacon. Or yours.” Caleb smiled in return, hesitating for a brief moment, then rocking himself forward just enough to press his lips to Fjord’s. The half-orc froze, the feeling of Caleb’s lips pressed to his entirely unfamiliar, but he leant into it soon enough, a quiet sound in his throat and his hand drifting down almost instinctively to the mark on Caleb’s shoulder, brushing over it, not quite pressing.

“Come on, Cay,” Fjord breathed, smiling (this time the gold in his eyes almost glowing, more like they used to).

-

The rest of the Nein joined them, yawning and still shaking off sleep in bits and pieces around seven, coming upon Fjord and Caleb lounging in a booth. Fjord’s arm was curled around the back of the seat, Caleb resting with his back against him as they both read the same book, Caleb holding it up with one hand and eating the other while Fjord turned the pages when he felt a gentle nudge of Caleb’s head against his.

When Molly dropped into the seat across from them with a sing-song greeting, they didn’t shift away.


End file.
